


Thicker Than Blood

by fuckyeahlucifersupernatural



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Sam 'Boy King of Hell' Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-07
Updated: 2013-12-07
Packaged: 2018-01-03 22:43:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1073906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuckyeahlucifersupernatural/pseuds/fuckyeahlucifersupernatural
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Who is he to deny his king?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thicker Than Blood

**Author's Note:**

> _This piece is for Team Fuck Lucifer._
> 
> **Disclaimer:** This is fan-run and this writer is not officially affiliated with the CW Network, Kripke Enterprises, Warner Bros., and other official affiliates tied to the TV Show "Supernatural." This user does not claim ownership to the official content of Supernatural and does not seek profit off of the work produced presently. Plagiarism of this current story will not be tolerated and will be reported following AO3's terms of services. The stories, additional characters I create, are mine. This story was not created for profit. Making profit is deemed copyright infringement unless sanctioned by copyright holders (i.e. CW Network, Kripke Enterprises, Warner Bros., etc.). Copyright infringement can range from paying a fine to actual jail time. Please do not claim this story as yours! Please do not sell this story! Please do not reproduce this story! All violators will be reported and dealt with severely! 

The Boy King’s fingers stretch out before him and Lucifer could feel invisible fingers suddenly tightening the tie around his neck. The knot is pushing against the base of his lower throat, forcing his head back to reveal his neck fully, as if that would relieve the tension. He can feel the internal debate of whether to tighten and watch skin flush from pink to red to purple or undo the tie. The latter is chosen. Fabric is pulled and soon silk is dragging across his skin, loosening itself before being abandoned on the floor. 

“Sam,” the archangel begins steadily, brows furrowing in concern, “This is a rather inappropriate method of utilizing your powers.” 

There’s a brief pull of Sam’s lips, momentarily parting to reveal a boyish grin, teeth covered in blood. Sam tongues the inside of his cheek as his fingers curl. The archangel can feel a button on his shirt pop, clattering on the floor before the others are following after it in synchronized order. He can only give an exasperated sound at his prodigy, raising his fingers to untuck Lucifer’s shirt out of his pants. He’s ready to open his mouth and return Sam’s focus to their current training, but there’s a sudden pressure against his waist. 

“ _Sam…._ ”

It takes a bit of precision and fiddling before there is the dragging sound of a zipper being pulled. Sam’s exhaling a shaky breath in satisfaction, giving a rumbling noise when the archangel thumbs his slack’s button undone. It’s a sign that he won and the younger male bristles with pride.

Blood on his teeth and down his throat, Sam is caught under the exhilarating stupor of demon blood. Sam’s mouth is smeared in blood, sticking to his teeth, his tongue running across each enameled surface in hunger. His clothes are covered in stains left by his victims, sprawled out and necks slit open, Lucifer having watched Sam moments ago sucking on an artery. Simple training exercise has turned into Sam satisfying his appetite, full and heavy with demon blood. 

“I think we’re done with today’s lesson,” Sam offers instead, diminishing the space between them to push his fingers under Lucifer’s dress shirt. Fingers are scorching hot, tracing sigils and wards across the angel’s stomach, tilting his mouth upward. He reeks of blood, body humming with cells that Lucifer has manipulated and twisted into his own liking eons ago in a fit of defiance. Ah, he can taste the defiance off Sam’s lips when he presses his mouth against his. It’s harsh, makes their teeth click against each other and tastes, faintly, of metalwork. There’s hot fingers digging into his sides, pulling him closer until the archangel can feel the thick outline of Sam’s cock. 

Who is he to deny his king? 

Sam has always been the heir to the throne in Hell. Born to lead armies and work in the political arena far grander than Sam dreamed of during his law courses. Lucifer had no interest in denying Sam of his crown, instead only playing the role of a teacher and executioner. He would listen to the young king, guide him in his role as king and let the Earth shake with each ferocious blow he could lay in Sam’s name when challenged.

While Sam is king, the archangel still assumed the role akin to a Creator, praised and worshipped down the streets. Hell’s titans have returned and each day it grows just like Sam. Sam continues to grow into his role, gaining allies and ground in such a short time, the public enamored by him. All the archangel can do is polish the Boy King before him. Perhaps out of his own selfishness and greed does he sink into compliance to Sam’s whims, whether it’s a trip to Flagstaff to stare listlessly at an abandoned cabin to late night adventures under the sheets.

There’s hands pulling his clothes off, coaxing him to lift his arms to remove the undershirt to reveal skin. The archangel steps out of his shoes, Sam pushing down his slacks. “Are we still going to call what I did reckless?” Sam asks against his lips, Lucifer tasting blood that is neither theirs. There are fingers pushing their way underneath the waistband of his boxers, warm fingers dancing across chilled flesh. 

The room is nothing but a mess. A scramble of furniture being knocked over, books fallen off their shelves and doors clawed at when they wouldn’t open when a bloodthirsty Boy King prowled after his prey. Reckless was an understatement. Sam’s mouth sucks on his bottom lip, heated fingers curling around his cock, giving languid pulls. 

“No, not reckless. I think we escalated past reckless,” Lucifer admits with a sigh when Sam releases his lip, hips pushing into Sam’s hand. 

Sam enjoys the high that demon blood provides, able to hear his own heart thump about against his chest rapidly. Enjoys the way that every time he runs his fingers across Lucifer’s skin does it prick and electrocute him back, Grace tutting at the demonic influence rushing through his veins. His hands move to the archangel’s waist, sliding back and down until his fingers are digging into the flesh of Lucifer’s backside. With a grunt, he pulls the archangel up, feeling arms loop around his neck for support. 

There’s a neck, suddenly, in the direct line of his mouth. Nipping and sucking on the flesh as he moves both of them across the room, he settles on the wall, pressing the archangel against the wall. Legs are firmly adjusting their hold around his waist as Sam sacrifices a hand to undo his jeans. “I’m going to take this as an agreement that the lesson is over?” Sam asks to fill the space with noise that doesn’t consists of the blood pounding in his ears, his fingers sloppy and eager to abandon their post on his zipper. It’s tempting to move his fingers forward, to push a dry finger in and feel Lucifer clench defiantly around the intrusion. To listen to his distressed noises and grumbles before Sam’s feeding him his dry fingers to be sucked and lathered in saliva. But he keeps himself focused on fiddling with his own jeans for now.

Lucifer only hums lowly, as if he can hear Sam’s thoughts. “From what I’m looking at,” he begins with a sly tone, “The lesson has just begun.”

**Author's Note:**

> _Love it? Hate it? Tell me in a review!_


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